


Gummy

by doodlebug_nimbus



Category: Magical Vacation (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay Robots, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, Memory Loss, Mokka identifies as female in this au, One Shot, POV Alternating Towards the End, Robot/Human Relationships, Science Fiction, also heroine's name is fondue in this fic, for a reason...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlebug_nimbus/pseuds/doodlebug_nimbus
Summary: Mokka breaks down. Literally.
Relationships: Heroine/Mokka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Gummy

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pulling from memory, so apologies if i got some details wrong.  
> i've been thinkin bout dose gummy girls. shit, man…

She knew something was up when Mokka started bleeding.

Well, it wasn’t particularly accurate to refer to it as “bleeding”, now was it? She was once again ascribing human experiences to someone that wasn’t human in any shape or form. But still, _something_ was oozing out of…her shell? She had often cracked a joke or two about how she was nothingness inside, so to see something as clearly solid as that rose-colored slime seep from various cracks and pierces in her body was…startling, to say the least. Whenever she pointed it out to Mokka, she’d just shrug it off as nothing important and state that they needed to focus on the task at hand.

Then there was the fact that chunks of metal constantly flaked off of her—like she was decaying. Once or twice one of her arms had fallen off, requiring rushed, immediate “medical” attention (in the form of taping or tying it back on and later reattaching it properly). Of course, when asked how she felt about it, she responded with disinterest. Fondue begrudgingly accepted her response the first few times it happened.

She couldn’t accept it anymore when more of that slime spilled out from the holes where Mokka’s arms connected. While repairing her, her hand brushed a bit too close the viscous stuff and to her shock, it wasn’t cold or wet like she had expected. It was warm, as if someone held it in their hands for a while. And at the same time she touched it, Mokka jerked a little, as if she felt it, too.

She knew something was up—Mokka was hiding something.

“What is wrong with you?” she said, perhaps a little too bluntly thanks to her surge of frustration. Mokka leaned back slightly, and for the first time she seemed to be expressing surprise. “Please just tell me…I’m worried about you.”

The robot was quiet for a moment or two, likely in contemplation. There was a tonal shift in her voice when she spoke. Fondue might’ve described it as a tinge of fear. “To be honest with you…I do not know.”

That was a first for her, and that made her all the more concerned for her.

Her situation only got worse the more they traveled. By now, the plate that constituted her back had curled off, the back of it rusted beyond recognition and coated in a rosy film. Without any better options, Pico thought it was a good idea to shove a large rock into the hole the plate left. The still-exposed corners oozed more of that slime, and now it was becoming an issue for everyone involved.

The only problem was that no one knew what to do for her—they were still young, still mostly clueless despite everything that had happened so far, and Mokka’s technology was so old that no one alive today could’ve provided proper help.

Mokka herself was hyper-aware of this helplessness, careful not to show it to anyone else besides Fondue. Nights at a time the two spent their hours trying to fix her to the best of their ability. With every passing night Mokka grew more quiet, more still. Now whenever she did speak it was only to express pain somewhere within her, to which she’d answer with another shrug if Fondue asked what exactly was hurting.

Yesterday Mokka had stopped moving entirely. The slime continued to ooze, at a much more alarming rate now, to the point that when they tried to move her manually, they found that an entire web of the stuff was stretching out from her back and growing on the wall behind her, slowly making its way to the rest of her body in its crevices, filling its holes and cracks, like it was consuming her. At that sight, for reasons unknown to her, Fondue started crying.

She had ran off so no one else could see, but Sorbet followed. After a good consoling, promises of not-telling, and a comforting embrace, Sorbet revealed something that only complicated their problem—the slime was alive. She explained that when Pico tried to clean away the “gunk” surrounding Mokka, the slime within her back formed a tentacle and lashed at him before returning to its nondescript blob state. And when she approached it herself, it didn’t attack, but instead she heard distant groaning within the slime itself. The groaning only intensified when they attempted to move her again.

They sat in silence for a while, as Sorbet wanted to ensure she was in an okay-enough mental state. Fondue then asked her something, but she couldn’t answer it, unfortunately: Is Mokka still in there somewhere?

While robots didn’t die the way humans perished, she teared up once more as if she had lost one of her own.

Tonight, they had stopped on a small, grassy planet that was apparently devoid of anything more complex than tree-like lifeforms. It was for recuperation before they continued on their way, and Fondue took it as an opportunity to check on Mokka.

Her current state was positively abysmal, as that accursed rose slime had now overwhelmed her form, draping from her arms in loose folds and spilling onto the ground in strings. The web surrounding her spot was encompassing the room, and Fondue stood on her toes to get to her, fearing that the slime on the floor was going to snap up into arms and pull her in to be absorbed.

Once she was successfully retrieved, she took Mokka’s still body outside and set it on the grass before seating herself next to her. She was debating whether or not to leave her here, turning this mossy lump of rock into her burial grounds. A part of her twisted as it seemed wrong, disrespectful even. After everything they’ve gone through, she was going to abandon her closest friend on a planet that wasn’t even named.

She debated herself some more. Mokka was more than a friend. Despite her biting wit and her overwhelming dryness, she never failed to sense some sort of caring respect from her, more so than the others. Whenever she took a shot at the others, she always went softer on her. Whenever enemies attacked, and against her state of disrepair, Mokka threw herself in front of her, specifically, to take the brunt of their efforts. And in the days leading up to her “death”, she was growing softer in tone and attitude when she was with her. Even if she wasn’t doing a good job of keeping her together, Mokka offered her something that changed how she viewed their relationship.

“I have been thinking about…what is happening to my body. And if I happen to ‘die’, as your lot refers to it…I wanted to tell you something while I still can. It will be incredibly corny, of course. But considering I have never handled such an experience like this before, I am going to borrow your language. I…love you.”

Indeed it was cheesy, but coming from Mokka, it meant everything to her.

_Hurts? Everything…hurts…_

She was trapped. Pushing against her prison only tightened the restraints on her.

While she couldn’t remember a lot of things—her name had long been forgotten—she remembered something happened to her mother. Upon that spark of memory she pushed again. Something cracked. A slight breeze was now brushing against her arms.

_Someone took her away…have to…escape…_

Flashes of images long ago flickered in her broken mind. A small cottage, a sunny field of roses. Her backyard? Someone was calling her to come inside…

_Need to…break free…Someone is…coming?_

Another push. More cracking. Her mother’s smile melted into terror. The…police were taking her away. Were they even police? No, they were…robots? She whimpered as a sharp pain pierced her head.

Someone was crying. It was her—no, there was someone else near her. No, no, no, she was in danger, they were going to hurt her, they were going to turn her into—

She pushed even harder, a hoarse, gurgled cry escaping her mouth as she fought against her shell. At last the cracks grew large enough to break the shell off into pieces, and the moonlight flooded her vision. She winced slightly, turning her head away from it—she didn’t remember the last time she wasn’t surrounded by darkness. When her sight sharpened again, she peered out the hole she created. She was looking up into the night sky, and distant vegetation swayed in the breeze.

Home? Where was home? Where was she? Fear was overtaking her brain. She pushed once again, and at this give the metal bands bolting her limbs down finally burst, and the rest of the shell came undone. That quickly turned out to be a mistake.

Not only was her body incredibly dense, but her lungs were filled with some sort of thick, viscous fluid, and with every desperate gasp it felt as though she was just swallowing more of the fluid. Some sort of heavy, unrecognizable machinery was embedded in her chest, forming a thick collar around her neck, with tubes feeding into her back that made turning her head difficult. The air was biting cold and she hunched over from weakness, trembling as tears started to prick her eyes while her muscles ached with centuries-old soreness. Something wet and warm dripped from her head and body constantly—her flesh was melting off. Oh, _god_ , someone, please, she needed help—surely someone could’ve helped her—the aches were intensifying, her vision began to blur once more.

_Someone, anyone, please, please help—_

She tried to get up, only to find that her arms were melting into her torso, forming long, stretchy bands of…jelly, whenever she pulled them out from her sides. No, it wasn’t just jelly—she vaguely remembered from long ago what her people used to refer to it as.

Gum. She was a pink gummy girl.

Before she could cry for help as a last measure, a girl behind her said, “Mokka? Is that…you?”

She turned around. A blonde, most likely no older than her, with her presumably-bright eyes wide with horror, her face ashen, stared at her, frozen in a position as if she was walking toward her. Something within her was telling her that she knew her, but her mind was blank.

“M…Mokka?” she repeated, taking a moment to gasp for air while more gum gurgled in the depths of her throat. It required so much energy to speak…She lurched forward, stretching out a dribbling hand to ask for that help she so desperately needed, her heart hurting when the girl stumbled away from her. Like she was some kind of monster. “Who is…that?”

The girl brought a hand to her mouth, and the moonlight glinting in her eyes revealed that she was tearing up as well. “You don’t remember me? You don’t remember yourself?”

“Huh?” She tried to think, to think above everything that was killing her now. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, calling her—Mocha. That was…her. Wasn’t she always Mocha? Why was she calling her “Mokka”? “I’m…I’m Mocha…”

Something like recognition flickered in her eyes. “Oh, god—Applepie had mentioned you—I didn’t know—I’m so sorry…”

When she hugged her, her brain woke up; memories of her second life started flooding back. This girl, she was called Fondue, and while she wasn’t certain where Mocha ended or Mokka began or who exactly Applepie was in relation to her, images of everything they went through, and images of everything she had done for her as Mokka—exploded in her mind, and as Fondue held her tighter and cried, Mocha held onto her, her pain finally washing away in the form of warm streams down her cheeks.

They had hugged like this before, when she was still a “robot”. To feel loved again was something she didn’t know she missed.

“Fon…Fondue, that’s your name, isn’t it?” They stopped to look at each other. A relieved smile rose up on the blonde’s face. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she said as they embraced again. Mocha didn’t want to let go. She still didn’t understand a lot of things, especially not her standing as her real self, but Fondue assured her. “We’ll figure everything out, eventually. I mean, I don’t really understand how or what happened, either—if only we had known earlier—but we’ll help you. I’m sorry I didn’t help sooner, I’m bad like that…I’m just glad you’re still with us. And we’ll figure out how to stop your pain! You deserve so much more than what you got…”

Mocha looked up at her. Her body didn’t feel as cumbersome and she could breathe again. She didn’t say anything, but she let herself be brought closer to Fondue’s body, enjoying the warmth she emitted. It reminded her of home…

“C’mon. Let’s go back inside and tell the others. Once I explain everything, I’m sure they’ll be happy to see—and help you.”

Mocha nodded, and together they left the night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i guess in this au mokka's original name was "mocha" when she was still human  
> and the heroine's name is fondue bc i thought it was fitting  
> also the angst is kind of funny because everyone has food names...  
> anyway,  
> mocha/fondue fics when


End file.
